


Heavy Petting

by dualwieldteacup (cinnamon_sunshine9)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: But today is not that day, Cat Ears, Cat cafe AU, Eventual Smut, M/M, Someday Anders will discover that flirting is not the answer to all his problems, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_sunshine9/pseuds/dualwieldteacup
Summary: or, How Fenris Stressed Out About Food Safety Violations And An Unshaven (And Very Flirtatious) Cat DevoteeFenris is a health inspector-turned-data analyst who is tasked with a return to fieldwork while his boss is away. Anders runs a cat cafe that's due for inspection. We all know how this is going to end.





	1. Lights On

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything I know about food safety, I learned from working at a smoothie place in college and doing farmer's markets for a bakery in the summer. Please don't get mad at Anders if he doesn't have the dishwashing soap at the proper concentration. He's doing his best.
> 
> I plan to keep this fairly short, maybe 4 chapters. Thanks for reading!

Coffee mug in hand, gray woolen coat over one arm, and ever-present frown sketched upon his features, Fenris swiped his security card beside the door and walked into the office. On any other Monday, he would have spent the whole day under the fluorescent lights, crunching numbers and printing reports. As it was, however, he'd have a chance to do some fieldwork for the first time in ages. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about it just yet.

"Sebastian," he said by way of greeting to the man whose pristine desk mirrored his own cluttered one.

The larger man glanced up from a perfectly rectangular pile of paperwork. "Fenris, my friend. How was your weeke--"

His phone rang and he gave Sebastian an apologetic shrug. "Kirkwall Department of Health, Fenris speaking."

"Fenris! Good m__ning!" His boss's voice rang out over the phone. There was an awful lot of static which obscured her last word.

"Hello, Aveline. Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?" He met Sebastian's bright blue eyes over the tops of their monitors and they exchanged a knowing look. This was the first time in six years that Aveline Vallen (now Aveline Vallen-Hendyr) had taken time off from managing the DoH office of food safety. _Of course_ she would call them first thing on Monday morning to see how things were going.

"Yes, and it's _won__rful_ and Donnic is here crossing his arms at me," she replied brightly. Fenris suppressed an eye roll, seeing as it would be wasted on a woman who wasn't looking at him. The connection was getting worse. "Listen, I just wan___ to tell you one thing about the inspection today! Don't let A_____ fl___ with you! He tried that last time and I------" The static buzzed horribly and Fenris couldn't hear her.

"Aveline? I can't hear you. Don't let who do what?"

" _I said_ , don't let A-------" The line went dead.

Fenris dropped the phone into its receiver with a sigh. "She was trying to tell me something about my inspection. Only Aveline would be thinking about site visits on her Orlesian honeymoon," he grumbled.

Sebastian gave an appreciative snort. "I'd be worried if she were sending a desk guy in with no field training. But you were a health inspector for what, three years?"

"Three long years," Fenris agreed. "And you'd switch to data too, if you had to suffer through it for that long. Well, I'd better get going. Mister..." he peered at the name on the folder Aveline had left him. "...Andersen will be waiting for me."

*

It was just after 7 o'clock when Anders unlocked the cafe's glass front doors, flicking on the lights as he entered. The sleek track lighting illuminated the various chrome machines that populated the long counter, along with tins of tea, bottles of syrup, shakers of powder, and several neat stacks of cups and saucers. He yawned and pocketed his keys, rubbing absently at the stubble on his jawline. Then he made his way toward a second door, behind which emanated the muffled sound of plaintive meowing and scratching.

He opened this inner door and shut it quickly to avoid any of his tenants escaping. "Good morning, my darlings," he said softly, and the meows escalated in volume. No fewer than eleven furry bodies of varying shapes, colors, and sizes trailed around his sneakers, rubbing against his leg and looking up at him. One or two stood on their hind legs and pawed at his knees. Anders smiled, scratching at one prominent furry orange ear, and made his way around several low colorful chairs, stools, and tables. In a high cupboard, he reached for a large bin filled with kibble and poured food into ten little bowls on the floor, each of which was labeled with a name. 'Marshmallow' read one; 'Chantilly Cream' read another. Ten cats began crunching at their breakfast, while the eleventh followed him around the corner to the office.

The cat - all black with three white dots on its forehead - watched him silently as he hung his jacket on the door hook, exchanged it for an apron, and cracked open a can of wet food. "For my special man," he murmured, kissing it on the forehead. The cat flicked its tail lightly in response at it turned its attention to the food. Anders smiled and headed back out to the cafe, leaving the cat to eat in peace.

Espurresso was a fairly new addition to Kirkwall, and though it had been a rocky start two years ago, Anders was finally getting the hang of running the place. It turned out that while the residents of Kirkwall would never to frequent the cafe as a usual coffeehouse haunt (hence the later than usual opening time), it had become a rather popular tourist destination. A wall of Polaroids near the windows captured images of tourists from Starkhaven, Amaranthine, and beyond who had made a trip to the unusual cafe during their visit to the City of Chains.

Beside the Polaroids was another bulletin board, featuring ID cards on each cat in residence at the cafe. Each card displayed a photo with the cat's name, age, breed, and a few cute facts. ("Miss Cinnamon loves belly rubs and feathers.") A placard beneath the cards announced that all of the cats featured on the board were available for adoption, bearing the logo of the Kirkwall Humane Society, whom Anders had partnered with when he opened the cafe. There was also a little chalkboard proudly proclaiming that since the cafe opening, 91 cats had been adopted from Espurresso. Sadly, Anders hadn't had cause to update the chalkboard in several weeks.

He headed back out to the cafe, turned on some music, loaded the cash register, and began to check the milk in the reach-in fridges when there was a timid knock on the door. He opened the door for Merrill and the three large boxes of pastries she held. "Hi, Merrill."

"Good morning, Anders!" the woman smiled at him and bustled behind the counter to set down her boxes. "How's everyone this morning?"

"Looking well. Fudge seems to have recovered from his malaise, and I think I saw Marshmallow and Mousse sharing a water dish earlier."

Merrill beamed at the news as she donned an apron, washed her hands, and began to stock the pastry case. The two of them chatted about the cats, their respective weekends, and Merill's crush Tamlen, who worked at the bakery. Before too long, it was time to open up. Anders unlocked the doors, flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, and put out the standing chalkboard. Time to start the day.

*

Fenris tugged on his gloves, turned up the high collar of his coat, and sipped at his hot, strong coffee. It was a chilly walk from the DoH offices near the Keep to the south side of Kirkwall, a trendy neighborhood called the Hexes that was a popular spot for apartments and quirky shops and restaurants. Fenris saw two tattoo parlors, an expensive-looking Qunari restaurant, several used bookstores, a highly suspicious secondhand shop called "Martin's Contraband," and countless bars and pubs. He rounded a corner and passed an inexplicably pirate-themed sex shop ("Below Decks") which was thankfully closed at this early hour... then saw the cafe he was supposed to inspect.

...At least, he _thought_ it was a cafe. In the window below the street number marking that matched the paperwork in his messenger bag, there were... cats. Two striped orange cats were napping on a carpeted platform standing in the window, while a black and gray one snoozed on a chair nearby. He saw several more furry creatures roaming in the space beyond, with a few people scattered at chairs and tables. One girl even had a cat on her lap while she read a newspaper. And indeed, most of the people had a coffee cup or a pastry on a plate in front of them.

Fenris' scowl deepened as he gazed at the cats, then back at the cups and plates. His countless hours of health inspector training were making the hairs on the back of his head stand up. A coffeehouse which _also_ had cats roaming freely? _Cats_ , with their fur and dander and-- _Holy Maker_ , these were creatures that shat in boxes! Which their owners often kept nearby!! How in Andraste's revered name did they prevent cross-contamination between their food prep areas and their--

He unclenched his fists and forced himself to take a deep breath. No need to get worked up before he'd even seen the place, although he had a bad feeling about... he looked over at the hand-drawn chalkboard sign outside the door and gave a miserable groan.

 **Espurresso.** Ugh. Why was _this_ the assignment he was cursed with for the one week he was back in fieldwork?

...This was going to be a nightmare.


	2. Potential Hazards

The cafe's two rooms were separated by a wooden door and a glass wall, such that whoever was behind the bar could see into the larger room with tables, chairs, and cats; and vice versa. Anders looked up from sweeping colorful hairs off the floor to watch Merrill ringing up and making drinks. If he saw any more than two customers waiting, he'd pop in to help her out, but this Monday was particularly slow (and cat hair had a way of accumulating if left unchecked). He knelt to scratch a purring Fudge at the base of his tail before grabbing a towel to wipe down the tables.

The adjoining door opened to admit a buxom woman with ombre hair that faded from black to dark blue. The deep cut in her V-neck shirt held a plastic name tag shaped like a blooming rose (or... something else, depending on how you looked at it), which announced her name as Isabela. She clutched two paper cups - Anders knew that one held a soy mocha, while the other held a creamy concoction with seven different types of syrup, whipped cream, extra foam, and several other modifications. It was from this latter cup that Isabela took a sip, leaving a dark crimson lipstick stain on the plastic lid. "Heya, cutie. What's shakin'?"

"Hey yourself," he replied easily.

Isabela plopped into an overstuffed armchair and made smooching noises at the cats who immediately gathered around her ankles, mewing for attention. She set down the mocha and reached down to pet a particularly fat golden cat named Dutch Baby. "Who's my favorite pussy, yes you are. My perfect soft pussy!" A customer nearby looked up at her curiously, then turned his attention back to his newspaper and the cat on his lap. "Oh, speaking of which, I brought you something."

She reached into the back pocket of her form-fitting jeans and pulled out a headband, covered in golden fluff and with two pointy orange protrusions at the top. Anders' brain barely had time to parse the item as a pair of cat ears before Isabela jammed the thing onto his head, then sat back to admire her handwork. "You make a lovely pussycat, Blondie."

Anders' cheeks turned a little pink, though he'd been subject to Isabela's innuendo and puns ever since her first visit to Espurresso shortly after it opened. She and her wife Mari ran the sex shop next door, and it had become a semi-weekly custom for one of them to grab drinks from the cafe before they opened. Isabela, Mari, and Merrill were probably the closest things Anders had to friends... unless you counted the eleven furry beings who depended on him for food and shelter.

He reached up to pat the soft cat ears on his head curiously, though he guessed there was no harm in letting the thing be. If there was any place where nobody would raise an eyebrow at a grown man wearing these, it was a cat cafe. "Anything exciting going on today?" Anders asked Isabela. 

Dutch Baby flopped onto her back, allowing the woman to scratch the soft white hair on her stomach. "Mari's leading a workshop on shibari at 3. You should stop by!"

"Ah, no, I think I still have bruises from your handcuff demonstration last month." The newspaper-reading customer choked on his drink, blushing furiously when Isabela caught his eye and winked.

"That's too bad. And you?"

Anders shrugged. "I have to get in touch with the Humane Society, see if they have any publicity I can get in on. You know, we haven't had an adoption in almost three weeks?" He lowered his cleaning rag and frowned down at Dutch Baby, who had her eyes closed in ecstasy as Isabela's long nails scratched away. "It'll be winter soon, and apart from the holiday spike, adoption rates always go down when it gets cold. We didn't have this problem last year. Plus, our food safety certification is about to renew, so I'll be seeing the health inspector any day now."

Isabela made a sound of disgust that he thought was supposed to be sympathetic. "Well, if you see anyone who looks like they could stand to be trussed up and hung from the ceiling, send 'em next door." She glanced over his shoulder and through the giant glass window and gave a predatory grin. "Like him, for example."

Anders turned around and looked at the coffee bar. Merrill was making a drink for someone in a dark coat with white hair, whose back was turned to them. At first glance he thought it might be an old man, and he was about to insist that Isabela leave senior citizens out of her naughty demonstrations. Then Merrill pointed at Anders through the glass (he dimly noted that she wore a matching pair of black cat ears that she hadn't been wearing this morning), and the man turned around.

Instead of an elderly gentleman, Anders found himself staring at a guy of his own age. Average height, slender, and bearing an expression that was outright _dangerous_. There was an unsettling directness in the man's green eyes, which seemed to tug at the pit of Anders' stomach. His dark complexion bore unusual markings - strikingly pale patches and lines upon his chin and neck. As Anders watched (lips slightly parted), the man tugged off his gloves and tucked them into his messenger bag, showing similar pale lines along the backs of his hands. Under the dark coat, he wore black slacks with a crisp silver shirt and narrow black tie.

Absently, Anders wondered if those markings traveled all along his body, and felt his cheeks grow hot again. He was _definitely_ spending too much time around Isabela.

The moment lasted a beat, then two, then the devastatingly gorgeous man turned back to the bar to retrieve his drink from Merrill. Anders turned back to see Isabela giving him a delighted grin. " _What?_ " he demanded.

"I know that look, sweetheart." She lowered her voice. "It means you're going to stop by our shop today to get three things: a pack of condoms, some lube, and--"

Anders clamped his hands over her mouth as his blush deepened from a light pink to a deep crimson. He should have felt bad, but didn't really. The eavesdropping customer nearby rustled his newspaper loudly, getting more flustered by the moment. 

"You know, in the dictionary entry for 'subtle,' there's a picture of you with a big red X through it," he replied primly, releasing her and snatching up his cleaning rag. "Now be off with you! You have work to do, and so do I."

"I'll say. We're open 'til 10 tonight if you need anything." Her dark eyes sparkled merrily. She gave Dutch Baby one last pat, picked up both drinks, planted a kiss in the air somewhere to the right of Anders' cheek, and sauntered out through the door. "Ciao!"

Anders took a deep breath to calm himself, turning his attention rather too enthusiastically to wiping down the table in front of him. He heard the connecting door open and close, and several extremely excited meows sounded. Someone was saying his name in a deep, pleasant voice.

"Mr. Andersen?"

He looked up. The stranger was standing in front of him, frowning slightly as he held a travel mug in one exquisitely lined hand, and a little card in the other.

"At your service." Anders schooled his features into a more relaxed expression and offered the man an easy smile. The words tumbled out before he had a chance to overthink them. "Wow, you're so gorgeous up close, I've forgotten my stupid pick-up line."

Weirdly, the man's gaze did not falter, and he didn't even give a surprised laugh (which was the usual result of this, Anders' favorite and admittedly rather over-used opening). But his eyelid twitched slightly, and his frown turned into more of a disgusted scowl, creasing the pale lines on his chin. It was then that Anders glanced at the laminated ID card in the stranger's hand, which said "F. Wolfe" and... "Kirkwall Department of Health." Suddenly, he found his stomach twisting for an entirely different reason.

"Fenris Wolfe, office of food safety. I'm here to conduct your annual health investigation."


End file.
